


Doctor Who: A Little Seed

by TARDIS_Type40_my_all_time_favourite1986



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Falling In Love, Love, Painting, Twelve-Clara, a new live, portray, unusual events, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22915228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDIS_Type40_my_all_time_favourite1986/pseuds/TARDIS_Type40_my_all_time_favourite1986
Summary: ~Writers, musicians, painters... it's all Peter Basil Smith, better known as The Doctor. When he developed the idea of writing a biography of a fictional character named Clara Oswald, he immediately started painting her, even though he was more of a landscape painter.But the more the picture takes shape, the more he falls in love with her... And soon his life will change completely.~
Relationships: Twelfth Doctor/Clara Oswin Oswald
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1 - It was just an idea

**Author's Note:**

> Allons-y!

Doctor Who is © by BBC. 

Doctor Who: A Little Seed ...

Chapter 1 - It was just an idea

How do you start a biography that is purely fictional in origin? A question which the famous writer called The Doctor (only a very few knew his real name) has been asking himself for some time. Of course, he could just start writing, but he wanted to make it as real as possible, like reading about a real person.

There was the next thing to think about. What if one day "fans" asked for an autograph? Should he then send them fake answers? There were no real photos of a fictional character.

Besides, he would have to explain that it was a made-up biography, although he would mention it at the beginning of the story. There will probably also be readers who then completely ignore the fact that it was written there.

However, the whole idea had been in his head for a long time, but he hadn't thought about it before. He already had a name and appearance in mind, but what about all the other important factors? Birthday, hometown, current age... all of this was not as easy as it might sound.

Much had to be considered, too much.

Somehow his idea was a little crazy. He was 55 and the only thing he could think of was the life of a young woman who didn't exist. But then why didn't he choose to write a novel about her instead of a biography. And couldn't it be just as good about a man?

The Doctor sighed and then put his fingers on his temples. This woman, who grew up alone in his head, would mean even more to him than he could have guessed.

To draw? He should draw them, the appearance clear. He always saw this picture in front of him, as if it were directly opposite him, he didn't have to think about it for long. A sketch should be enough first, later he could still transfer it to a large canvas.

Her name would be Clara Oswald, she would only be 5.1 tall, but would not be disturbed by it. Her profession would be a teacher, especially in the areas of English and literature, with her main area being the Regency era.

She would have brown hair like brown eyes and come from Blackpool, but have been living in London for some time.

The Doctor himself was Scotsman (with ancestors from England, Ireland and Italy), that was known, so he didn't want to take anything too obvious. Also, the person about whom this fictional biography will tell should not be anything special, but quite normal.

He didn't believe in portraying a character as overpowering, the real heroes were those who admitted their weaknesses, not those who could do everything and were truly perfect.

Next he looks at the sketch of the figure he developed. It will obviously work better if you can see it on a big screen (not that he intended to show it to the world. Maybe he shouldn't make the whole fictional biography publicly available, but on one of these fanfiction sites register where no one would guess that he is behind all of this.)

He paused again and again to look at the drawing. It was just a pencil drawing, but that's what Clara Oswald would look like. Exactly this look, which made his heart beat faster.

The Doctor shook his head. Of course that was a stupid thought he had there. As if the portrait of a young woman triggers feelings... So certain feelings.

He put the sketch on a slide and although it was late, he decided to transfer the picture now. It was itching in his fingers to do this, otherwise he would not find sleep and would keep thinking about it.

And it really had to be "perfect". Even if Clara Oswald was only created in his imagination, she was still human, albeit fictional. She would have a story and she would... Good question, what would she do. He did not know.

Again and again his hand, which held the brush in his hand, ran over the canvas and Clara Oswald took shape more and more. He ignored the pounding of his heart, he just wanted to finish.

He paused again when he thought her eyes blinked briefly, but that could only have been imagination. Why should she blink? It was just a painting... albeit one that would one day mean a lot more to him. But we won't read about that until later.

When the painting was half finished, so the outlines were drawn, there was still no fill up with the colours, he collapsed from tiredness in the middle of the chair on which he had been sitting.

Now that he was no longer mindful, something happened that you would probably not believe. From the, still unfinished painting, the outlines of Clara Oswald got up, went through the room and took a blanket from the couch, which was then placed over the sleeping person on the floor.

Shortly thereafter, the outlines returned to the position in the painting, as if nothing had happened.

But her eyes were on him all night, as if she was afraid that he would be gone in the morning and leave her here alone. Or did he want to sell it to a gallery, where people would look at it for a long time?

Of course she couldn't know what a place it was to sell it to, and yet such thoughts came to her mind. Thoughts that she just couldn't stay with him.

When he woke up the next morning, he had no idea where the blanket from was coming from, but it didn't really matter.

His back ached from lying on the hard floor for several hours after he started the picture...

The Doctor blinked as he was still getting fully awake. He just broke down last night because he just wanted to get the picture ready as quickly as possible.


	2. Chapter 2 - Nobody Goes Crazy, Does It?

Chapter 2 - Nobody Goes Crazy, Does It?

The picture! When it came back to his mind, he almost stumbled there. He couldn't tell if it really was, but somehow there was the feeling that the position was a little different than last night.

Well, it was late and probably few would remember how someone started painting.

None of this mattered now, it was only important to him to get colour in the picture. So far it was famous, but rather in the moderate range.

In the next few hours, he only paused in very urgent moments, the painting of Clara took shape more and more, he could even feel the heat when she ran her fingers over it as soon as the paint had dried, that is, several hours later which emanated from her skin.

He would definitely not go crazy, certainly not. After all, he had slept on the floor all night and whoever did it, knows that it really is not a great experience.

But it didn't matter.

Clara's eyes were now finished, as was her face, and when he looked at her, he had the strange feeling that she was blinking again. His thoughts really had to be playing tricks on him, the only question was why did they do it, what were the reasons for it. It wasn't the first painting he created.

But so far he hadn't painted a picture of people. The Doctor was more known for landscape paintings, most of Scotland, but also some from other countries. Mostly places where he was and which he wanted to capture not only in photographs but also in paintings.

For the next few days, his task was only the painting, the young woman he had designed it himself (writing the biography could wait), he just wanted to see it completely in front of him, in all the beauty he imagined.

The last brushstrokes were on her eyes and when this was finished, he couldn't be happier.

And again he collapsed from tiredness on the floor, right in front of the painting... from which, while he was asleep, the woman he had created rose again.

„My Doctor“, she whispered, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead, „You gave me the life that could fully develop in your talent.“

She had returned to the picture before he woke up and again he felt like the position was a little different than before. Probably his eyes played a trick on him because of the little sleep, there could be no other explanation.

The Doctor took a chair and sat in front of it. All the while, his eyes stayed on her eyes. Why couldn't he just look away, what was that strange feeling he had when looking at her?

He wished, without realizing that it would not only exist in his imagination, that it was real.

From the other side she saw him, this lonely man who had brought her to life. She didn't see him as a father, not as someone who was in her care, she saw him as someone who would never let her go... She hoped so strongly.

Clara Oswald, invented by Basil Smith, couldn't know what feelings were, and yet she knew all of them. As if she had lived before, but that couldn't be. It arose from his thoughts, his idea of writing a fictional biography about a person who didn't exist.

You could show him up, right? Tell him that she was alive, real, but he would never believe it, most likely doubting himself.

Clara held out her hand, but pulled it back before she could reach out of the picture. She couldn't show him, it would only make everything worse.

When the Doctor woke up again, he felt even more dazed. Why did he keep losing consciousness after working on the picture? It had to be something, just what it was, he had no idea about it.

The picture wasn't ready yet, but he didn't find the strength to complete the background, his hand felt numb and if he even wanted to reach for the brush, he still couldn't.

He looked up when he felt something on his cheek and then backed away, startled, shook his head, but when he looked ahead again, everything was as usual.

But he had felt it clearly. Her hand was on his cheek, she had touched him... Or was he really still sleeping and everything was just a dream? Yes, it had to be that way. A painting or rather the figure in the painting did not suddenly come to life unless a fairy godmother suddenly comes and fulfills such a wish.

Somehow strange, all of that, but at the same time quite fascinating. Either his mind slowly turned off completely or his imagination took over.

Perhaps the idea of a fictional biography wasn't that good after all. Perhaps he should destroy the image here and now before he went mad.

So he picked up a carpet knife and walked towards the picture, intending to banish it from his life, but before he could even start the first stitch, she literally jumped out of the painting and landed directly against him, where he was could only hold with difficulty, otherwise they would have landed together on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3 - It is real

Chapter 3 - It is real

He just looked at her in shock. It couldn't be, it just wasn't possible. Why was she standing in front of him?

„The painting isn't finished yet, so why do you want to destroy it?“

The Doctor shook his head several times as if it were gone the next moment, but as soon as he opened his eyes she was still standing in front of him.

„You are real, aren't you? You are really real, Clara Oswald.“

She smiled, but he wasn't sure if it was a good thing.

What should he do now? He had not only created a fictional figure in his head, it had also come to life.

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

„You look so thoughtful“, she said later in the day, looking up questioningly. Of course, he wondered how she could know such sentences. She was alive and talking, but something didn't seem right.

Clara was supposed to be like a child. Always asking simple questions, wanting to know a lot, but it was the opposite.

„I was just lost in thought“, he smiled, „everything is fine.“

Clara nodded slightly and then turned to the book she had taken from his shelf. And that was the next question he asked himself: how was it possible that she could read?

He would learn a lot more from her later, but she would ask him a lot of questions over time. And he would be more than happy about that.

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

A few days later, he went to a specific person whose help he rarely used, but this time it was very important.

„Nice to see you“, she greeted him, „what brings you to me?“  
„I want you to create a fake birth certificate for me. You have the means, I know that.“

She looked at her brother, but then started to laugh.  
„I would have expected a lot from you, Basil, but not that. Did the colour smells cloud your brain?“  
„Missy, this is not a joke. I have created a portrait of a woman in the past few days and she has somehow come to life. Please, I don't want her to have her whole existence in this picture. Or most of the time.“

„What do you mean by that?“  
„Clara can step out of the picture and we'll talk. And they are real conversations, not conversations between parents and children. Clara may not have been "born" normally, but that doesn't mean that you should be forbidden to live because of it.“

Missy looked at him, it was very good to see how much he was suffering...  
„You fell in love with her? A woman who only came into being in your head? Do you actually know how stupid it is?“  
„And? Yes, I'm in love with her and that's why I want Clara to be able to live a normal life. So, you will fulfill my request and create a fake birth certificate for me. It's not like you haven't done something like this before.“

„Come over tomorrow and I'll show you that I'm not crazy and that Clara really exists.“

He couldn't say how happy he was to hear this. It was not to be taken for granted that she would help others, even if they were part of the family.

She would do it... and then she would make sure her brother got medical help.

~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~ ° ~

He was nervous. What if Missy couldn't see Clara at all? What if he was just imagining something? But when she hugged him (he was getting used to it) he could feel her body warmth, her heart was beating... just what makes a living person.

And even the strongest imagination could not be that strong.

He had told her that they would get visitors and here, too, she knew what it meant. Slowly he was worried. He had not written the biography that was planned. There were only notes on various pieces of paper, but only the name, date of birth, place of birth and current place of residence were written there. He had not even written down her hair and eye color, it was all in his head.

It would only be an hour before she was here. An hour that seemed like an eternity to him. As if it were stretched several times.

Clara had left the picture when he asked her to.

„I'm not real.“  
„You are as real as you want it to be, but somehow you have to exist, otherwise we would not speak to each other.“  
„You invented me, how can I exist?“  
Clara had begun to wonder whether she should be alive in the past few days, after all, she was born in the mind of one person.

He was about to answer when there was a sudden clearing of the throat behind them. Missy had, how could it be otherwise, simply gain access to his studio.

Now he could prove that Clara was real, no bravery in his brain, no craziness in his imagination. Nevertheless, his younger sister did not look very convinced and therefore asked for proof, which he could easily provide.

„Clara, please go back to the picture, it's only for a short moment.“

The young woman did him a favor, but as soon as she was back in the position in which she was drawn, Missy picked up one of the pointed brushes and tore a long tear in the bottom of the picture.

The Doctor took a moment to understand what was happening, but then it was too late.

„What... what did you do?“  
„It's enough that I'm the craziest in the family.“  
„Go“, he asked softly, slumping on the floor at that moment, „I just want to be alone.“

She knew there was no use in calming him down as if leaving the studio while he was curled up.

She had simply destroyed the picture, but Clara was really alive. Was it murder then? Would Missy have just killed someone? Or was it possible that he could still fix the picture?

But when he looked up, the picture was empty, which meant there was no one to be seen. Only the background shone in all its colors, which made it look like a landscape painting. He shook his head. So Clara Oswald was gone forever.


	4. Chapter 4 - Just Live

Chapter 4 - Just Live

„It is understandable that she didn't notice how I quickly jumped out of the picture. But why didn't you notice, Basil?“

He looked up in confusion. Was he just imagining it? No, she really crouched in front of him now and smiled.  
„There is someone who gave me life“, she whispered softly, „someone whom I am very grateful for.“

He just looked at her. It was born out of his thoughts simply because he wanted to write a biography about a fictional character, but this biography will probably never really exist now.

Over the next few weeks, Clara Oswald learned a lot about life. After the doctor paid a large sum, she really got a birth certificate that had her name, date of birth (November 23, 1986), place of birth, Blackpool in Lanchashire, and the names of her "fictional" parents, David and Eleanore Ravenwood - Oswald.

In short, she was now an official person no matter how she was "born".

„What do you do?“

He looked up as Clara entered the room. The Doctor had an electric guitar in his hand, on which he was trying to compose a melody.

„I only play a little music.“  
„What is music?“

He got up now and decided to create a playlist of various music from the 1960s until today, which they could listen to in the next few hours. Of course, he could only play his preferred music, but he wanted Clara to become her own personality, with her own interests, likes and dislikes.

„If you want, you can also look up what you like on the Internet yourself... If you are not sure, just ask. Not every music style is allowed, which is largely due to the lyrics.“

She nodded, glad he was helping her. Of course, he definitely didn't want her to get into more trouble. Nobody can rule out smaller ones.

By the time the playlist ended after several hours, Clara had fallen asleep. A picture that made him smile. He couldn't tell how much he was in love with her and how much he would regret if something happened to her again.

He lifted the young woman on his arms and carried her to his bedroom, which was next to his studio (which was actually just a free space).

There he put her down on the bed, at least took off her pants and shirt and then pulled the blanket over her head. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead before leaving the room, not closing the door, but leaning against it.

No matter how much he might want to deny it, he couldn't deny that he had fallen in love completely, with both hearts if he had two and not just one.

„Does it sound crazy if I wish I had had a childhood?“, She asked when they were having a picnic in a park one day.  
„No, not at all“, he thought for a moment, „of course in the biography I would have written something about your childhood, that is, what you could remember.“  
„It feels strange not knowing anything about it as if everything was gone. Well, actually nothing that never existed can go away.“

„Then let me show you what it would be like to be a child.“

He jumped up and went to a nearby store that sold ice cream. He got banana kiwi for himself and chocolate raspberry for Clara. Just nothing with pears! Everything except pears.

„What's that?“, Clara asked as he handed the ice cream to her. The Doctor explained it to her and Clara bit into it with full force, whereupon she grimaced.

„It is cold? Is this the word for it?“  
„Yes, cold. Cold can actually cause a feeling of burning. But if you are honest, it is not really possible to explain cold and warmth.“

She took another, now cautious, bite from the ice and thought it was very good. How did she find out what was good and what wasn't? This ice cream was the first in her life that she got. Of course she ate like a normal person, but ice cream was something new for her.

„Doctor? Can I ask you something? What is that strange feeling in me?“  
„You will probably be hungry“, he thought, „I'll show you where we can get something later.“

Clara nodded before finishing her ice cream in peace.

Actually, she felt a little... stupid, was it the right word for it? It would have been better if she hadn't come to life but continued to exist as part of a painting.

She lived only because he fell in love with her, wasn't it?

These wild thoughts made them crazy themselves. In one moment she is happy to be alive and in the next she wonders whether she would rather have remained a simple painting.

„You're still worrying about it, aren't you?“  
She nodded slightly, barely noticing, but didn't answer. He could 'read' it like that, after all, it was his 'work'. And yet she would never see him as her father.

She had him when he drew her life one after the other, gave it to her in a way that no one could imagine (later she would learn about the history of Pinocchio, but unlike the true end of the story, she would not die .)

„Stop it, okay. You are alive, it doesn't matter how and why, you live and only that matters.“

She looked at him more closely at these words and then wondered how exactly she could know how she felt about him. She didn't know the whole concept of friendship and love. Was it friendship what she felt, was it love or something in between?

„Do you know any other people besides her, Missy?“  
„No, an artist like me is considered quite eccentric. Who wants to spend time with an old man who plays the electric guitar, but could never fulfill his dream of having his own band, who writes stories, but has never been able to publish a real bestseller and the crazy one who fell in love with the portrait of a woman which he created himself.“


	5. Chapter 5 - Don't Play With Us, Destiny

Chapter 5 - Don't Play With Us, Destiny

Clara, who was only a few weeks old, moved to him and leaned against his body, stiffening. The Doctor didn't like being too close, but suddenly couldn't move an inch.

„Did I do something wrong?“  
„I... can I show you what a hug between two lovers feels like?“  
She nodded because she was curious about it. His words surprised him, since he really wasn't the person for hugs. However, Clara is not just anyone and this was not a normal hug. He just wanted to hold her close, like someone who was in love did.

„It feels very good“, she admitted as she put her head on his chest. He couldn't tell whether she was doing it out of instinct or because she was learning fast. And that would be something that would make her an individual and no longer a figure that had arisen in his head.

„It likes it“, she whispered, even though she didn't know what it was like to be hugged like that. So far, everyone has started from her, which he replied reluctantly. The last time he said this as a child, or rather, as a teenager, he had done this to his parents before they left, and not that way.

He nodded slightly, his hand intertwined in her hair. He had never thought about how it would feel and was therefore surprised how beautiful it was.

His hand slipped from her hair and then slowly went down to her lips, where he lingered for a while. Clara couldn't know what love was, what it was all about, and yet she looked at him so he could see how she seemed to be thinking about something.

„I saw on TV how two people put their mouths together. Is it a kind of ritual?“  
„Not really. It's called a kiss. There were different types of it and not all of them can have a deeper meaning. The one you saw was probably a kiss of friendship.“

Even if it was, she didn't know. Neither could she describe the strange feeling that made her skin tingle.

The Doctor now fell on his back on the picnic blanket and closed his eyes. Clara saw others walk past them, looking at them disapprovingly in part.

Of course, she didn't understand what was wrong with it when they were sitting here, well, he was lying, their hands were entwined and they were just enjoying the day.

„Nothing's going to happen to me?“, She asked anyway, so that he looked at her, but didn't seem to know exactly how to answer.

„There he is!“, suddenly a voice was heard, „and guaranteed to kidnap the young woman.“

Both looked up in surprise, not understanding what was actually going on.  
„We heard that you may be planning to kidnap.“

Basil stood up now. He still didn't understand what was going on here, but who would.

„He'll surely want to kidnap her!“, Exclaimed the older woman.  
„Is it still possible? What reason would I have to do something like that?“  
„Why else would she be here?“  
„Because Clara is my girlfriend and I fucking love her!“

He didn't want to say it, not like that, but all the accusations that he was up to something were going against his grain. Clara, however, just stared at him. He had never really been loud before.

„And now please go so that I can enjoy the rest of the picnic with her, which was so nicely interrupted.“

He could only hear the woman scolding when he was sitting with her again.

Clara was crying now and asked him what would happen if someone really separated her. But he would never allow that as long as he lived.

She just looked at him and realized that it didn't matter how it all happened... she just put her lips on his, hesitating at first but then allowing it.

It had been a long time since he had kissed someone, too long, but he had to be honest that this was the best kiss he'd ever got, considering that it was her first kiss, after all, Clara was too just four months old at the time, that much time had passed since the moment she fell against him.

„It was a kiss between two people who love each other“, he explained, lovingly stroking a strand of hair from her forehead. It may sound "possessive", but he didn't think so. No matter how much he loved her, he would not tie her to chains.

„It feels strange“, she admitted.  
„It is the first time for everyone“, he smiled, „Clara, I am not forcing you to spend your life completely with me. You can...“, he swallowed gently, „meet you with others.“

She seemed to be thinking about it, but didn't know what he meant. Did he want to get rid of them in nice words? Did he now regret that she came to life? Then why had he shown her the hug and kiss thing? Then why had he said earlier that he loved her? Was it all just in the zeal of the moment?

She had liked it, both of which, although they shouldn't really feel like it, after all, there was nothing she could compare with it.

She looked at him. He had his eyes on the sky, seemed far away.  
„I never believed that there were unusual things“, he said suddenly, „was it really my feelings that brought you to life? Was it something else? I just have no idea, My Clara.“

She reached for his hand and held it firmly in hers. It didn't matter how she was "born", it didn't matter that she was originally just a man's thoughts. She was very lucky to be allowed to live.

He took the sketch he had made from his inside pocket and ran his hand gently over it.

„It feels good what you're doing there, Basil.“

He looked up in confusion, his fingers still on the sketch.

„Clara?“, He said softly and she turned her gaze to him.

„I just didn't touch you at all.“

The end.


End file.
